


Good Omens

by celtic7irish



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adam is amused, Aziraphale is clueless, Crowley Has a Heart, Crowley is amused, Crowley is exasperated, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Lots of sweet treats, M/M, Other, Pepper is suspicious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21872554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celtic7irish/pseuds/celtic7irish
Summary: After the world had failed to end, after Heaven and Hell had each said their piece, after Satan had been banished once more from the earth, things had reverted back to normal rather quickly.  And that normalcy had left Crowley at something of a loss.So when Adam had reached out to him - to ask for his advice on treats for Dog, of all things - he’d been rather surprised.Later, when he’d told Aziraphale about the call over a bottle of wine, the angel had gotten a bit misty-eyed.  Which had given Crowley an idea.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley & Adam Young (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley & The Them (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Brian/Pepper (Good Omens), The Them & Adam Young (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 188





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pogopop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pogopop/gifts).



> Based on this prompt: Crowley and Aziraphale try to mentor Adam, but they're so incompetent that Adam hasn't a clue what they're doing, just sees them as odd but inoffensive. Pepper is suspicious. Aziraphale is doting and Crowley pretends to hate it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little fic!

After the world had failed to end, after Heaven and Hell had each said their piece, after Satan had been banished once more from the earth, things had reverted back to normal rather quickly. And that normalcy had left Crowley at something of a loss. What was a demon supposed to do where there were no more orders to follow? Causing mischief and mayhem was all well and good, but even that got boring after six thousand years, give or take a few decades. Besides, the humans created enough of their own chaos without any help from him.

And he wasn’t the only one at a loss. Despite the miraculous restoration of his bookshop, Crowley had caught Aziraphale staring rather blankly at nothing in particular.When Crowley would ask, the angel would just give him a serene smile. “I’m perfectly all right, dear Crowley.” The angel was truly a terrible liar.

And then one day, Crowley received a call. He had wondered about Adam and his friends now and again, but figured the antichrist deserved to continue living a normal life with his family and The Them. So when Adam had reached out to him - to ask for his advice on treats for Dog, of all things - he’d been rather surprised.

Later, when he’d told Aziraphale about the call over a bottle of wine, the angel had gotten a bit misty-eyed. Which had given Crowley an idea.

Five days later, Anthony J. Crowley and Mr. A.Z. Fell moved into a quaint little cottage on the outskirts of Tadfield, where the odd miracle was likely to go completely unnoticed. Their arrival was greeted with enthusiasm by the local children, and amused tolerance by the local witch and her witch hunter disaster of a boyfriend.

Almost immediately, Aziraphale doted on the children. Nothing that their parents would find unsettling, of course, because that simply wouldn’t do. But when they’d come over, there would always be delicious cakes and desserts waiting for them, and treats for Dog. Aziraphale always had something new for the children to try, taking obvious delight in finding a group of humans who enjoyed delicious treats just as much as he did.

Crowley watched it all with a sort of detached amusement, content to remain in the background and allow the angel to have his fun. 

Aziraphale, being of a Principality sort of nature, took his duties as a mentor very seriously indeed. Which meant that delicious pies were scattered with small nuggets of wisdom, and divine pastries were delivered alongside anecdotes meant to teach life lessons. Because, as Aziraphale had pointed out solemnly to his amused companion, even though Adam was Good, and had rewritten history so that he was the true son of Mr. and Mrs. Young, it never hurt to be careful. And one near-Apocalypse was one near-Apocalypse too many, thank you very much.

The children, of course, didn’t mind the fables in the least. To them, they were fun stories, and often led to arguments about this character or that lesson (“but if nobody claimed the low-hanging fruits, then the top of the trees would be empty and the rest would spoil!”), and Crowley would occasionally play Devil’s Advocate just to watch in delight as it started a whole new round of heated debate.

What the angel appeared to have forgotten, however, was that only Adam knew of their true nature. His friends only knew that a couple of weirdos helped their friend when he needed it. And now those same people were living in their little village on the outskirts of nowhere in particular.

It was Pepper who voices the first suspicion, sitting under an apple tree in the garden and watching Adam play with Dog. The group of them had been playing all morning and were now taking a break for snacks.

“How come it isn’t raining?” Pepper demanded, narrowing her eyes at the clear skies before turning to look at Crowley, who was lounging in a chair, sunbathing.

Crowley slid his sunglasses down to peer at the female child. “I’m sure I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about,” he informed her, then pushed his sunglasses back up and stretched languidly before settling into a limp sprawl.

“I mean,” Pepper started, not to be deterred, and Crowley sighed internally, “that the weather forecast called for rain all day today. It was raining when we left home, but now it’s not.” And the Them didn’t live terribly far away. Crowley saw where this conversation was headed.

“It must have been a bad forecast,” Crowley shrugged. Personally, he thought weathermen were some of the best work he’d ever done. They were rarely right, and that made people discontent when their plans for a picnic suddenly turned into a chilly, blustery day that they were not the least bit prepared for. It was brilliant, if he did say so himself.

“There is no need to fret, my dear Pippin,” Aziraphale murmured, stepping out of the cottage and offering the girl a slice of lemon cake. “I am quite certain the rain shall return.” Crowley stood abruptly, ignoring the odd looks from the Them, and sauntered into the house. Not a moment too soon, either. The MiracleTM that had been keeping the weather at bay was suddenly cancelled out,and there were numerous shouts of dismay as the rain returned with a vengeance. It had some catching up to do, after all.

Four children and a soaking wet dog crowded into the cottage, dripping water everywhere. Aziraphale came behind them, smiling beatifically. “There now,” he said, handing each child a towel and giving Adam an extra one for Dog, “isn’t that better?”

While his friends protested loudly, Adam just blinked bemusedly, not even flinching as Dog shook himself, sending dirty water everywhere.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose that Dog _did_ need a bath.”

Crowley hoped Aziraphale appreciated the Effort it took for him not to laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

The children were playing in the woods behind the cottage where Aziraphale and Crowley had made their home. Crowley was watching them through the window, his head tipped curiously to the side as he tried to figure out what, exactly, the goal was. The other children seemed to have no trouble following their imaginative leader’s instructions, however, so Crowley shrugged after a moment and left them to it, heading for the living room where he’d undoubtedly find the angel sitting in his recliner reading a book. That, at least, hadn’t changed, Crowley thought rather fondly as he drew closer to the angel.

“War and Peace, angel?” he asked, reading the title. Aziraphale peered up at him over the rim of his glasses. “One would think you’d have had enough of war by now.”

Aziraphale gave a small sniff. “I find it rather enjoyable to read the history of humans, and to compare it to my own memories of the period.” He glanced down at the book, then back up at Crowley with a wry grin. “You slept most of that century, did you not?” he asked.

Crowley shrugged, unrepentant. “The nineteenth century was boring,” he lamented.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised. “It was a period of enormous social change,” he countered.

Crowley grinned. “Like I said, angel; boring.”

Aziraphale just sighed and went back to his book, turning the page before asking casually, “I take it the children are all occupied with their games?”

Crowley nodded. “Though I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what they’re up to,” he admitted. Then he narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t been trying to mentor Adam again, have you?” he demanded suspiciously.

“I’m afraid you shall have to be more specific,” the angel replied, taking a moment to place a bookmark on the page he was reading and carefully setting the book aside before pushing himself to his feet and wandering towards the front door, Crowley trailing after him. “I simply told Adam that a child’s imagination was one of their greatest gifts, and not to squander it.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I don’t think we have to worry about that,” he said. “I mean, the kid raised Atlantis.” Not that anybody but the three of them remembered, of course.

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale said, “nonetheless, it’s completely harmless now.”

Crowley raised a skeptical eyebrow. “If you say so, angel,” he murmured.

Just then, Dog came scampering through the door, followed by a gaggle of red-faced, laughing children. Adam grinned at them.

“Did you know you have a snake outside in the garden?” the boy asked. “It’s a big one, too!”

Aziraphale gave Crowley a narrow look, as if it was somehow  _ his  _ fault there was a serpent in the garden. It’s not like it was him; he was standing right here.

“You didn’t try and pet it, did you?” the angel asked, concerned.

“No,” Adam admitted. “I wanted to, but it seemed to be napping, so I didn’t want to wake it.”

Brian agreed. “Yes. You said that all creatures are God’s creatures and should be respected!” he said.

“Which doesn’t mean you should try and pet them all,” Crowley pointed out, peering out the door. Sure enough, there was a snake nearby in the garden. More exotic than anything found in England, and Crowley removed his glasses to glare at it with amber eyes. The serpent - who had found itself in this lovely warm garden after it had been tumbled out of a tiny container, and was really just interested in minding its own business on a large, flat rock - shuddered and curled up on itself. The glare only intensified, and the snake decided that perhaps there was another sunny rock somewhere else. Like...somewhere much farther away from this village and its odd inhabitants. Touchy bipedals and a noisy thing that pressed a cold nose to the snake’s side, and now a creature that sent terror rippling down its scales with just a look.

The snake problem taken care of, Crowley slipped his sunglasses back over his eyes and turned around to reassure the Them that there was nothing to worry about, but nobody was there. There was the sound of childish laughter coming from the kitchen, though, and Crowley decided he had best see what they were up to. The angel was far too indulgent with them; somebody had to be the disciplinarian (he completely ignored the fact that he wasn’t any better at it than Aziraphale. In fact, he might be even worse at it, given that he was a demon and liked to encourage bad behavior.)

Sure enough, the four children and the dog were sitting in the kitchen, mixing batter for...something. Cake, maybe. It was hard to tell, since most of it was on Brian. Wensleydale was licking batter off his finger, and Pepper was sketching in an artbook. She had probably taken charge of the cake decorations, to make sure they weren’t too  _ girly _ , whatever that meant.

Adam was sitting next to Aziraphale, balanced precariously on one of the kitchen stools, leaning forward with his hands gripping the edge. The angel was watching the children fondly, but his eyes turned to meet Crowley’s when the demon walked into the kitchen.

Crowley would never admit that Aziraphale’s smile at that moment made him melt. Just a little.


	3. Chapter 3

Adam was on his own today. Brian was on a family vacation before the new school year started. Pepper had gone with them (Crowley rather suspected that the two of them would be dating by the time they returned, or possibly be back to not-dating). Wensleydale was visiting a sick aunt. Which left Adam Young and Dog here in Tadfield.

Anathema and Newton had stopped by as well. Apparently, Agnus Nutter had left a special book for Aziraphale before her execution, and Anathema had been instructed to present it to the angel today. Crowley barely caught a glimpse of the title, and Aziraphale had taken the book (because it would be rude not to, after all) and scurried away, his face pale and holding the book away from him like it was going to bite him.

Newton had just shrugged awkwardly before following his wife back out the door. Aziraphale had reappeared shortly thereafter, the book nowhere in sight. Crowley’s curiosity took over. “Surely it can’t have been that bad?” he asked lightly. “I only caught a glimpse of the title before you ran like a pack of hellhounds was chasing you, but I can’t imagine why Good Omens would be cause for worry.”

Aziraphale had given him a dark look. “For a human, Agnus Nutter was far too perceptive regarding the affairs of Heaven and Hell,” he said vaguely. “It is better off to not know what she has written, lest we become bound by her words.”

Crowley, personally, didn’t see any harm in a little bit of future telling, but it was obvious that the angel was uncomfortable, and so he didn’t push. He’d just take a little peek at it himself later.

Adam’s arrival had successfully diverted the angel’s attention, the boy having answered a summons from Aziraphale. And by summons, Aziraphale had spoken to Mr. Young and asked if he would be willing to let his son visit their cottage for a bit of lawn maintenance. Mr. Young firmly believed in helping one’s neighbors, and felt that it gave Adam good work ethic (the child had plenty of character, after all, he hardly needed  _ more _ ). It also gave Mr. And Mrs. Young a few hours to themselves.

Of course, the yard didn’t  _ actually _ need any work done, maintained through miracles as it was, but Aziraphale had left a bush that was in need if just a bit of trimming to lend authenticity to his request (after all, he might not be taking orders from Heaven, but he was still a Principality, and lying was beneath him).

But after the hedge work was done, Aziraphale moved on to the actual reason he’d brought Adam here; to see how much the boy remembered about the Apocalypse-That-Never-Happened. Personally, Crowley thought it was a bit much. Adam was the Antichrist, and he had single-handedly saved the human race (as much as Crowley would love to take some of the credit for that, he’d been pretty much useless against the Four Horsemen and Satan Himself).

Still, he supposed it might be good to know if The End might come back around anytime soon. Forewarned and all that.

Crowley took his time miracling up some lunch for the two of them (he still had very little interest in any consumables that weren’t alcoholic in nature), then mosied on into the living room to tell them that food was ready. But Adam’s voice stopped him halfway there.

“Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Adam insisted. “What end of the world? Satan is real? I mean, I know my mom and dad tell me to behave so I’ll go to Heaven one day, but those are just stories. Angels and demons and the like don’t really walk the earth, do they?”

Crowley felt his face pale; he was almost certain that Adam had known all along that neither of them were as human as they might appear. He had  _ snake eyes _ , for Hell’s sake!

“You really don’t remember?” Aziraphale asked, sounding terribly concerned. Crowley hurried into the living room so he could see Adam’s face when the child answered.

“Remember what?” Adam asked, tipping his head to the side, one hand scratching Dog’s ears. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I’d remember the world ending.”

“Adam,” Crowley spoke up, “why were you grounded?”

Adam frowned. “Because I….” he trailed off. “I don’t remember,” he admitted, shrugging.

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley, panicked. The demon raised an eyebrow. What did Aziraphale expect him to do about it? “Food’s ready,” he said instead.

“Yes!” Adam cheered, scrabbling off the couch and pelting towards the kitchen, Dog at his heels. Crowley stepped out of their way, turning to watch them go. Once he was satisfied that Adam was too busy enjoying his lunch - Crowley didn’t skimp when it came to the amount of sugar he plied the kids with - he turned back to Aziraphale.

“Him not remembering might be a good thing,” he pointed out.

Aziraphale frowned. “Yes, dear,” he agreed. “But if he truly does not remember, whether of his own doing or not, then we have been going about this whole thing wrong,” he lamented.

Crowley grinned. “What? You mean with the whole “with great power comes great responsibility” lessons? I thought you were doing a bang-up job.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Yes, well, but there’s no point if he hasn’t got any power anymore,” he pointed out.

Crowley considered that. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he argued softly. “Besides, who says the kid hasn’t got any power? He’s got The Them, hasn’t he? And Dog. Who, might I remind you, is a Hellhound. Not just anybody could turn one of those beasts into an obedient mongrel.” Dog barked from the kitchen, and Crowley rolled his eyes.

“That is true, I suppose,” Aziraphale admitted. “It might not be the power of the Antichrist, but he’s definitely got  _ something _ .” He looked toward the kitchen. “Do you think we did the right thing?” he asked.

Crowley shrugged. “Tell me angel,” he said, “how do you know if something’s right or wrong?” Aziraphale opened his mouth, and Crowley leaned in close, hovering over him. “Wrong answer,” he said, preempting whatever the angel had been about to say. “Each person has their own code they follow. Adam...he’ll be fine. And if he ever forgets that, his friends will help him remember. Because that’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

Blue eyes met his, and even with the sunglasses still on, Crowley felt like Aziraphale was seeing far more than he’d meant for him to. “Yes, I suppose they will,” Aziraphale agreed.

“If you don’t hurry up, Mr. Fell, I’m going to eat all the cake!” Adam called out, apparently having already dismissed their previous conversation.

“I’m coming, dear child,” Aziraphale replied. Crowley stepped back so the angel could stand.

For a brief moment, the two of them just looked at each other, before another excited bark from Dog broke them from their daze. “Yes, well,” Aziraphale said as they made their way towards the kitchen, “I suppose I shall simply have to alter the lesson plans.”

Crowley grinned. “That’s my angel.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was three days before Crowley got a chance to take a peek at Good Omens, the book of prophecies Agnus Nutter had written specifically for Aziraphale.

Brian and Pepper had returned from family vacation, and Wensleydale’s aunt was on the mend, so they were all outside, playing with dog, Aziraphale keeping an eye on them while he waited for Anathema and Newton to arrive. Apparently the two of them had something to ask Aziraphale (and Crowley, they’d said, but the demon couldn’t figure out what they could possibly want with  _ him _ ).

Aziraphale hadn’t hidden the book particularly well, really, and Crowley smirked triumphantly as he pulled it out of the beside table. Opening the cover, Crowley paused, then frowned.

_ To the demon Crawly (or perhaps it is Crowley now, time is relative, after all), _

_ This book was to be given to the Principality Aziraphale on October 31, 2019. However, it is, in truth, meant for the both of you. _

_ Enclosed you will find many prophecies regarding yourselves, and those around you. I would ask that you heed them, but know that you will not just because I ask. So I will tell you some truths about the one you call ‘my angel’, so that perhaps you might take the rest of the contents of this book seriously _ .

Less than five minutes later, Crowley ran out of the house like he was being chased by Heavenly Flames.

Aziraphale just watched him go, then turned back to the children, who had paused their game just long enough to not get run over.

Crowley would come back. He always did.


	5. Chapter 5

“Do you really consider us a family?” Crowley asked later that night, having reappeared several hours after running out of the house like he was on fire. Aziraphale didn’t know where he’d disappeared to, but it hardly mattered. After all, the demon had slept for decades before; what was a few hours?

Aziraphale had not, however, managed to locate the book of prophecies Agnus had intended for him. He had been certain it was in his bedside table, but perhaps he’d been mistaken. It was no matter, though; it wasn’t like he ever planned on actually  _ reading _ the thing, after all. No, prophecies brought nothing but trouble. And he’d had plenty enough of that, thank you very much.

Aziraphale looked up from the crossword puzzle (he did so enjoy them, with their clever word play) and blinked at Crowley. “Of course I do,” he answered. “You and me here, together. The children. Anathema and the Pulsifer boy. Even Dog. It’s not a traditional sort of family, I know,” he admitted, “but it’s kind of nice to think of ourselves as honorary uncles, isn’t it?”

“Honorary uncles,” Crowley repeated flatly, though his mind wasn’t really on the conversation. It had stopped somewhere around ‘you and me’.

‘Well, yes,” Aziraphale nodded. “Adam was telling me just the other day that we’re kind of like the strange uncles that nobody knew existed.” He paused, seeming to realize something. “Oh, dear. Did I make a mistake? Do you not feel the same?”

Crowley shook his head, snapping himself out of it. “I’ve never thought about it,” he admitted, still thinking back to Agnus’ words.  _ He will never make the first move. It will be up to you to. _ Carefully, like he was approaching a spooked animal, Crowley moved to stand in front of Aziraphale, then dropped slowly to his knees, a serpent at the feet of an angel. “Aziraphale,” he asked, slowly, carefully, Agnus’ words pounding out a steady beat in his head, “do you love me?”

The angel’s eyes softened. “Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, “of course I do. Probably have done for a long time now. But I did not think you would be interested.”

Crowley started at him in disbelief, even as hope bloomed in his chest. “Not interested?” he demanded incredulously. “Angel, I’ve loved you for at least three thousand years.” Honestly, he’d probably loved him since the Garden of Eden, but that smacked too much of fate and destiny. So he went with the first time he’d known for sure that he loved the angel, hopelessly and completely.

Aziraphale’s answering smile was sweet and delighted. “Truly?” he asked. “That long?”

Crowley nodded. “Truly, angel.”

Aziraphale put his book down, words forgotten, all of his attention focused on Crowley. “Well, then,” he said, “how about you show me?”

A kiss three thousand years in the making was bound to be spectacular.

It was.

**Author's Note:**

> I marked 'other' for Relationships because I think of Crowley as being gender-fluid. For the purposes of this fic, Crowley is male, but they are a demon paired with an angel, so I'm not sure gender is really set in stone for either of them. :)


End file.
